A Duet of Regency Sex Comedies (4 page)

It was growing dark
when Cubby awakened, she knew Vincent was already
awake,
his breathing was no longer shallow. Her hand skimmed across the expanse of his
broad chest, exploring as she had wanted to do when she had first awakened
beside him this morning. She felt the thundering beat of his heart beneath her
palm, and realized he was enjoying this. Her simple touch made him feel that
way? She looked up at him in delight and was stunned at the gentle expression
she saw there.

With an oddly
mischievous twinkle in his eye, Vincent rose scooping her into his arms, then
he strode stark naked past the stunned footmen lining the hall and carried her
upstairs to their room.

Chapter Five

Vincent batted the
annoying fly away from his face. The last weeks had been amazingly sweet and
sensual. He couldn’t remember ever being this happy. But he was also exhausted.
The damn fly was tickling his face again! He brushed his hand over his forehead
once more and encountered something cold and sharp.

He flew into a sitting
position, flinging the intruder with the weapon beneath him and holding both
the assailant’s hands in one of his. He suddenly realized it was Cubby-with a
very lethal looking pair of scissors. He gulped. Did she hate him then after
all? He almost wanted to weep. He’d grown
fond
of her.

“What the hell are you
doing?” he bellowed.

Tears instantly flooded
her big blue eyes, and he felt bad. How crazy was he? He felt bad for making
the woman who was trying to kill him cry? Why? Because, he realized-he loved
her!

“Vincent, I…”

“Do you hate me that
much Cubby?” he asked, horrified when he heard his own voice crack a little.

“Hate you? How,
why…what are you talking about?” she demanded crossly, apparently not
intimidated by him at all.

“If
you kill me, my nephew will inherit as we have no heir yet,” he warned.

“You are wrong,” she
said placidly.

“No Cubby, I’m not and
he’s not a good man, not kind,” he warned.

“You are wrong
Vincent,” she whispered again.

“I assure you I am
not…” Shocked when Cubby
raised
herself up in his hold
just enough to kiss him soundly on the lips, he almost found himself
responding. What a sad case he was, to want her even now. He’d dismissed his
mistress right after their wedding, knowing Cubby was all he ever wanted.

“Yes,” she whispered
against his lips. “You are.”

Something about this
scenario wasn’t quite right, a dark flutter of something black,
a
spider? Cascaded down and settled across her naked breast.
He freed her hands to brush it away.
Hair?
Black hair.
His hair!
Was this some kind of crazy Samson and Delilah notion that she was toying with?
His hands flew to his head, but no, his hair was still intact. He removed the
scissors from her hand, and rose. The face that stared back at him from the
dresser mirror was not his own. Gone were the ominous black bushy brows, now
neatly cropped and showing his face. My God! He almost looked…
human
.

“Handsome,” Cubby said
watching his reaction in delight. “I always knew you were handsome.”

Naked
he turned to her, unwittingly, his features for the very first time in his
life, open and his emotions plainly on display.

Cubby
hugged her
knees,
after he’d made love to her he’d
fallen asleep beside her. She couldn’t believe how lucky she was to have this
huge handsome man love her this way. And he did love her, she just knew it.

Vincent ran a hand
through his hair, just staring at her. “Why?”

“I wanted the rest of
the world to see you as I do,” she said simply.

“And how do you see
me?” he asked, his voice softening as he seated himself beside her. Cubby found
her courage deserting her. She quivered for a moment, but he waited
expectantly.

“As the beautiful man I
love,” she answered.

He couldn’t help the
crooked grin that curved his features, he eyed her sideways.

“Very
well then.
Handsome
,”
she corrected.

Vincent wanted to
laugh. It was the love part of her sentence he’d been taken with. “I love you
too,” he said so softly she was afraid she hadn’t heard him right.

“You do?”

“I do.”

“You’re still wrong you
know,” she said looking mischievously up at him.

“About what, Imp?” he
asked, laughing now.

“Well, obviously about
the fact I might be trying to kill you,” she said giving him a dirty look that
made him want to laugh even harder. But also about your nephew being the heir.”

His gaze suddenly swept
down to where her small hand was resting on her belly, this time he didn’t try
to hide his tears.

Because
they were tears of joy.

The Mischievous Virgin

By

 
L.C. Zingera

Chapter One

Dare stared down from his
six feet four inches to the diminutive five foot something miss who was about
to become his bride. He would have preferred the guillotine to matrimony. A
shame he wasn’t French and born a decade or two earlier, it would have solved
all his problems.

The way things were
going, he half expected, she’d say
I don’t
instead of
I do
.
But only if he was incredibly lucky.

Only a week ago her
father had approached him, he knew the Wolverton estate was in need of repair
and an heir, as he bluntly put it, his daughter was available with a very large
dowry and he wanted her settled immediately.

“Why not give her a
London Season?” Dare asked suspiciously, only willing to entertain the notion
because it would absolve him of the unfortunate duty of attending both
Almack’s
and
a
series of hot stuffy ballrooms in search of an appropriate wealthy bride.

“Daizie has her own
ideas and she is well…somewhat unconventional!”

“How
unconventional?”

“Unfortunately
so.”

“Is
she ugly?” he had to ask, there must be some reason other than the girl being
somewhat unconventional that her father would deny her a Season.
“A hooked nose?
rotten
teeth?
spots
?
big
ears…knock knees…?”

“Good
God no!”
Edward Sinclair replied in horror.

“Fat?”
he suggested.

“No.”

“Difficult?”

“Unusual,” Edward
repeated patiently.

Dare sighed, this was
no explanation.

“She’s as adorable as
her Mamma was!” Edward informed him. Dare frowned, trying to remember if he’s
ever met the late Lady Sinclair, if he had, it was too many years ago to form a
clear picture. But he could ask around, perhaps his mother or one of his aunts
had known her.

“You’ll need a wealthy
bride sooner or later Dare. Why not allow me to save you the trouble of
looking? Surely you must realize that one young debutante is very much like
another. I am offering you a king’s ransom to take her off my hands, and spare
you an eternity of boring visits to
Almack’s
, and the
machinations of a few dozen matchmaking mammas.”

Since
Dare had had the very same thought himself, he’d been unable to argue the
point, and meeting a debutante briefly under her guardian’s watchful eye it
would be more than impossible to ascertain anything about her personality. He
would be no better off than if he simply agreed to this odd proposal.

So,
here he was, one week later, having procured a special license, staring down at
the young girl he’d met only moments ago as she walked down the aisle on her
father’s arm. Her father had insisted they not meet until the wedding, unwisely
he’d agreed.

“At
least she’s not dog ugly,” Wynne, his best man nudged him and whispered as she
approached and finally came to a halt beside him. He released a pent up breath,
even beneath the exquisite fine lace veil he could see that she was
surprisingly adorable, which unnerved him all the more, what was wrong with her
then? There was no time to consider the matter further though as the vicar
immediately began the reading of the vows.

“…to
love honor
and
obey,” she said so
quickly and with such enthusiasm his eyes flew wide, her bright blue eyes were
twinkling merrily up at him through the gossamer fine veil. Beneath the veil he
could almost swear he saw her wink!

He brushed a hand
through his long dark hair, his troubled green eyes blazing in disbelief,
exactly how odd was she?
Or, as her father chose to
succinctly phrase it-
unusual.
The vicar placed her small delicate
hand in his as he slid the ring onto her third finger, he’d expected a nervous
bride; emotion, maybe even tears since the wedding had been arranged for her. Instead
she tickled his palm. He snatched his hand away in surprise. The vicar didn’t
appear to have noticed, he simply droned on, his monotonous tone and Dare’s own
misgivings making this whole ceremony feel more like a funeral than a wedding.

And strangely his palm
tingled where she’d tickled him. He offered up a quick prayer that her only
character flaw was an odd sense of humor.

The
vicar continued, pronouncing them husband and wife. It was done. Dead locked
into wedlock. His fingers curled around hers, struck when once again her thumb
brushed across his knuckles and she gave him another saucy wink as he lifted
her veil. Instead of a gentle kiss on the cheek, she turned her head, his kiss
met hers head on, her lips lingered clinging, and she rose on her tip toes
leaning toward him, almost stumbling as he pulled away, staring at his bride in
disbelief.

“At least the honeymoon
shouldn’t be a problem,” Wynne muttered, nudging him in the ribs again.

But
would it? An innocent young woman who was so eager? It was downright odd, a
disturbing suspicion began to snake its way up his spine.

Chapter Two

Finally alone in the
enclosed carriage, Daizie hung out of the window and waved wildly until the
crowds were out of sight, there had been no wedding breakfast, and her father
had insisted during their negotiations that Dare take her to his country home
right away. Still wearing her voluminous wedding gown, she finally plopped down
onto the seat opposite Dare brushing aside the veil she tossed it onto the blue
velvet seat beside her and grasped his hands.

“Thank you so much for
marrying me and getting me away from that incredibly boring lot!” she laughed
up at him. She was actually quite beautiful, long blonde hair, pink cheeks,
flawless skin, sparkling bright blue eyes and very kissable looking lips that
had formed into a mischievous grin.

“Boring? You appeared
quite taken with them,” he drawled, unsure exactly how to proceed, he would
allow her to lead him, for now.

“Well, they are all
very sweet, but still quite boring!” She bounced over onto the seat beside him,
laying her head on his shoulder. “It is permitted, now that we are married,
isn’t it?” she breathed dreamily.

“Yes,
it is permitted,” he answered, wondering how to broach the subject of why she
was so happy to be married to him. She threw him off guard once again, by
taking his hand in her own and linking her fingers with his, reminding him of
her behavior in the chapel.

“Daizie,
why the hurry for us to marry?”

“Father didn’t tell
you?” she gasped, her head leaving his shoulder, she turned to face him, her
blue eyes wide.

“I’d
like to hear it from you,” he said noncommittally.

“I behaved
inappropriately with…a footman,” she admitted.

“A footman!” he
bellowed. His pulses roared, and the blood pounded heavily in his ears. So, she
was carrying a footman’s child? No wonder the rush to the altar, he’d have to
have the marriage annulled. He groaned at the thought of the ensuing scandal,
but to allow a footman’s child to inherit the estate? Never!

“Well, my father said
my behavior was inappropriate. I didn’t think so, I liked it!”

He stared at her hard.

“But father said these
are things young ladies are only allowed to do when they are married.” Leaning
back in his seat he closed his eyes, what had he done? “Father said, that I was
much more suited to the marriage bed than the debutante balls, and it was
inevitable that I would instantly disgrace myself in London…I have far too much
enthusiasm for everything tactile and…I can hardly wait to…”

“Stop!” he shouted.

She
was seated across from him again now where she could look into his eyes, about
to continue her ceaseless chatter. He put a warning finger to her lips, she
kissed it and laughed. He rolled his eyes.